Drop Dead Sexy(32)

“Okay. Why not.”

A pleased smirk curved on his lips. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to me.”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head at him. “You sure make a girl second guess herself.”

He laughed. “My apologies, Miss Sullivan.”

The GPS instructed us to turn off the main highway. After we drove down a secluded road for half a mile, Catcher mused, “It seems one thing Randy and Patricia had in common is living in the sticks.”

When we turned a curve, a guard shack loomed in the distance. “Hmm, a gated community. The plot thickens.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of resort.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of commune for genital freaks. Like there’s women with three tits or something.”

I rolled my eyes. “You have got to stop calling Randy a freak. He was a really nice man who deserves better than to be made fun of because of his special endowments.”

Catcher held up his hand. “Fine, fine. I’ll try to be more respectful.”

“Thank you.”

As he drove the car up to the guard shack, Catcher eased the window down and then reached into his jacket for his badge.

“Can I help you?” a man’s voice asked.

“Yes, I’m Agent Mains of the GBI. We’re here to speak with one of your residents—a Patricia Crandall.”

When Catcher turned to flash his badge to the guard, he jumped in the seat. “What the f*ck, man?”

I leaned forward to get a better look out the window. “Oh my God!”

For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, I had the privilege of seeing a man’s junk. Well, the third time if you considered that I’d also seen Catcher’s. Or was it the fourth since Randy had two dicks? Whatever the exact number, it had turned into an all-out penis-palooza.

The naked man held up his hands. “I’m sorry to shock you both. My apologies you were unaware that Bare Haven is a clothing optional resort.”

“Excuse me?” Catcher asked

“You mean this is a nudist colony?” I questioned incredulously.

The man, who looked like he was wearing one of those fur vests from the sixties with all his chest and back hair, shook his head. “We really prefer you don’t use the word ‘colony’. It has such a derogatory feel. You know like a cult or something.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” I mumbled in reply.

Catcher was handed a sheet of paper. “This is your guest parking pass. I’ll radio the clubhouse and let them know you’re coming. Ms. Crandall is one of our full-time residents. If she’s home, they can have her meet you there.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“No problem. Have a nice day.”

“Same to you,” Catcher replied before the car screeched away from the guard shack.

“Oh. My. God,” I muttered.

Catcher snickered beside me. “Looks like we’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. We’ve entered the Bucknekkid City of Oz.”





“Siri, play Bad Moon Iby Creedance Clearwater Revival,” Catcher instructed.

“I see a bad moon risin’. I see trouble on the way.”

I turned my head to cock my brows at him. “You really had to go there, didn’t you?”

Catcher chuckled. “Of course I did.”

As Jim Fogerty sang, we drove down the winding road leading into the resort. At the sight of two naked landscaping guys with leaf blowers on their backs, I shook my head. “I seriously cannot believe this.”

Catcher cut his eyes over to me. “That places like this exist, or that Randy patronized them?”

“If I’m honest, I’d have to say both. I mean, I knew places like this existed. I just never imagined one practically in my backyard.” I grimaced. “Right now, I cannot possibly fathom the idea of seemingly shy Randy Dickinson frolicking around here with his naked fanny showing.”

“Don’t forget his two dicks flapping in the wind.”

I covered my face in my hands. “Ugh. Thanks for reminding me. I’m going to be haunted by that the rest of my life.”

With a grin, Catcher replied, “Me too, babe.”

“Babe?”

Catcher’s brows popped up. “What? Are you one of those chicks who doesn’t like terms of endearment?”

“No, no. I like terms of endearment.”

“Let me guess. You’re just not a big fan of ‘babe.’”

I shrugged. “It’s okay.” What I wasn’t able to say is that he continued to take me off guard by using terms of endearment so soon. I mean, we were just one day off a one-night-stand. I didn’t imagine that sort of thing usually happened. At least he wasn’t using the word in a demeaning way.

With a grin, Catcher said, “All righty then. Babe.”

I turned my attention away from him and back to the road. Bare Haven’s actual complex was about a mile down the road. It made sense that it was far off the beaten path to keep prying eyes away. When we came to a roundabout, we went to the right, which took us a sprawling clubhouse. I blinked a few times in disbelief because it resembled something you might see at a country club.

As I reached for the door handle, I drew in a few deep, cleansing breaths. After the crazy events of the past twenty-four hours, I could’ve used a Xanax the size of my head. It seemed wise to gird my strength for what further insanity I was about to be subjected to.